


the world is watching

by meganekun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Spoilers for Episode 4 vs Shiratorizawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganekun/pseuds/meganekun
Summary: He scratches his cheek, the pink on it spreading slowly. "It’s kind of obvious that I always want people to think the best of Tsukki, isn’t it?"Hitoka smiles."As long as you’re not the only one." 
Tsukki's magnificent block against Shiratorizawa, in Yachi's perspective.





	

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  another reminder that this is _very_ spoilery for the third season's episode four, the halo around the moon. if you've watched it and are looking to ride on the wave of hype as i am, you've come to the right place. (ಸ ‿ ಸ)  
>  whether these three are in an estabilished relationship or in the fragile zone of "we-all-know-about-our-mutual-feelings-but-won't-do-anything-about-it" is up to your interpretation haha

 

 

 

 

So many gazes rest on the volleyball court. To those who have been here prior to this game it even seems bigger, now that only two teams stand on it, battling for the conclusion of this high school volleyball season.

The finale of the Spring High Tournament.

Tadashi and Hitoka have been here before, of course.

Hitoka, as the team’s second manager, is not allowed on the sidelines. There’s no seat reserved for her on the bench on Karasuno’s side, next to Ukai-san and Takeda-sensei; that’s Shimizu-senpai’s place, she has been there far longer, and Hitoka understands. She’s had thoughts about what it would be like, so close to the event everyone – including her – is so excited to watch; closer than Shiratorizawa’s cheerleader squad, closer than the family members coming to support their children and siblings, closer than the scarce adult men stopping by out of a sense of nostalgia.

Hitoka is not the kind of person to let go of her insecurities easily – once something’s been formed into a thought, it’s rare she ever forgets it – but by now, she feels not only at place thanks to the welcoming atmosphere of the Karasuno Volleyball Club, its staff and the silly encouragements of the boys, but the sole commotion of the game in front of her sweeps her in like a buzz, enough to push anything else out of her mind at least temporarily.

She is part of this club and, though it feels a bit dramatic to say, she doesn’t remember ever wanting somebody – or, rather, twelve somebodies – to win this much.

It’s never really been lonely in the audience stands, either. Hitoka remembers vividly Ukai Senior’s intimidating, yet comforting presence next to her, his experienced commentary that gave her so much to think about during the game and after, his endearing little students, whose names she forgot to ask in all the fuss.

It’s reassuring not to be the only girl, though. Tanaka Saeko, big sister to the loud-mouthed wing spiker on the court, is a force to be reckoned with, but Hitoka doesn’t feel particularly threatened, if only a little starstruck by how awesome she is. It must run in the family, but Hitoka personally thinks Saeko is a whole lot cooler than her brother.

She doesn’t consider herself to be acquainted with Shimada-san, but she hears about him from Tadashi more often than not. It’s mostly praise, obviously – "Yachi-san, I’m really glad he’s so patient with me! I feel like I’m a piece of work sometimes." – "Yachi-san, his jump float serve is so impressive! I still have a ways to go until mine is at least half as good." – on better days: "Yachi-san, I really think Shimada-san can help me get it right!"

 _You’re not a piece of work_ , she wants to say. _You’re already great_ , she wishes she could tell him. _I believe in you_ , she swears in her mind.

But, just like it’s not her place on her bench, it’s not her place to tell him such things. She feels like they would be empty, coming from her, because she hasn’t played volleyball since elementary school, hasn’t run drills and practiced receives until sweat poured from her like rain from the sky and all of her limbs ached as if somebody ran her over, hasn’t laughed in victory and cried in defeat.

Kei did, and she has the utmost trust in Kei to pick Tadashi up when it’s really necessary. As much as she wouldn’t have believed it when she first met him, she’s seen him do it since then, in quiet, yet meaningful ways. Has seen the small, almost unnoticeable touches, the silent grins, the radiant smiles in response. They’ve known each other for so long, have stuck by each other since they were little. There’s nothing to worry about, and if there will be, Hitoka thinks she can trust herself to pick up on it and do what she can.

Shimada-san and his friend, Takinoue-san, are having a quiet conversation, probably sharing observations neither Saeko nor Hitoka would comprehend enough to find interesting, when Kageyama, Azumane and Kei jump up for a block – it’s not very comfortable to talk over the two of them to Akiteru-san, Kei’s elder brother, who Hitoka figured out played volleyball for some time, as well. It was a surprise to Hitoka to find out he decided to attend this match, considering she’s barely heard of him before other than quick, domestic mentions such as _Akiteru-nii is coming home from university next week, right?_ or _Nii-san left his socks in the living room again_.

Hitoka knows that Kei isn’t talkative enough to start retelling entire stories from his household, especially childhood ones, but she still assumed they just weren’t close enough for Akiteru-san to take interest in his younger brother’s club career. Though it was clear the older Tsukishima was not planning on Kei getting sight of him, it did not seem to Hitoka as though it was because both of them knew he didn’t actually care. She might want to ask Tadashi what that’s all about later.

But now, her attention belongs to the game. She steals a quick glance towards the sidelines, where Tadashi stands next to Suga-san, tall and almost confident in his posture, but noticeably nervous. It’s evident in the tense line of his back – she can’t make out much of his face from the way he’s standing – and his tightly clenched fists.

If the twitch of Tadashi’s shoulder is anything to go by, they’re both surprised by how loud Kei’s voice rings across the court when he directs the three-man-block. It’s not the first time he’s done it in this match, but it’s amazing every single time.

It’s nothing like the authoritative rumble of Sawamura, the captain, when he reminds his– no, _the_ team to stay focused, encourages them after a lost point. It’s not quite like the holler of Azumane after a good spike, or when Nishinoya manages a skilled receive, either (Azumane seems to really have an eye for that, even when he’s not in a position where Hitoka thinks he can see it well). Of course, it’s not similar to Hinata’s squeals and whoops after– _well_ , just about anything –, or Tanaka’s wails of triumph when he succeeds in breaking through the opposite team’s block.

Maybe it’s because it doesn’t happen so often, she justifies. Kei’s voice is unwaveringly calm and smooth, a little quiet, even, so that Hitoka often has to ask him to repeat what he just said, even though she’s never thought of herself to have bad hearing.

Surprisingly, he obliges every time, even if it takes an _It was nothing of importance_ followed by an _I would still like to know, Tsukishima-kun._

Though Hitoka is getting much better at being able to follow the ball’s path in real-time, some attacks are simply too fast to grasp immediately. But seeing Nishinoya wobble on his feet with gritted teeth is enough to understand that _he_ received _Ushijima Wakatoshi’s_ murderous spike.

The amount of progress that takes place in the time of only two sets is astounding, really. If anyone ever tries to tell Hitoka athletes aren’t intelligent, she might go on a rant, Hinata-style.

It goes from Tanaka to Sawamura and onto Shiratorizawa’s side. In Hitoka’s peripheral vision, Tadashi bounces on his heels, his hands no longer clenched in fists, but fingers crossed behind his back.

Hitoka exhales in something that might have been a fond giggle if she wasn’t so on the edge from the back-and-forth of set and taken back points and copies the gesture.

She misses the receive of Shiratorizawa’s libero, just as the setter’s toss and the spike. When she looks back on the court, all she sees is Kei (and Kageyama, but, as much as she tries not to, her focus always shifts onto Kei) landing back on the ground, back slumped, arms loose by his sides, wrists and fingers outturned and tense.

Did they let it through?

Could they not block it?

Could nobody in the back line receive it?

Did they not connect?

Did they… give up this set?

And then, everything erupts into noise. Hitoka doesn’t know where to look – the points added onto the scoreboard, the cheers of the sidelines or the people next to her. She feels a little bit paralyzed, out of the loop, the way you are when you re-enter a conversation mid-way and no longer know what the others are talking about; the way you are when going to the supermarket as a child, taking in the colorful goods with bright, curious eyes and suddenly losing track of your mother, left behind all by yourself with no knowledge of where she went.

And so she blocks out Saeko’s attempts to side-hug her (she’ll apologize for that later, of course) and Akiteru’s screeching (oh yes, it’s _screeching_ , that much she can tell even when not paying attention) and watches Kei. Kei, who started this match same as usual – by simply being there, doing his job – and went on to observe the game with careful eyes behind reflecting lenses, creating useful opportunities out of skillful one-touch blocks.

Hitoka has always had a special focus on him – on Tadashi, too, when he was in the game, but that obviously didn’t occur as often – but even she can tell that this time, she isn’t the only one.

Because Kei is nothing but the man of this match, she thinks, when she watches the ball roll to the side on _Shiratorizawa’s_ side.

And Kei raise his left arm in the air – fist clenched, biceps strained –, shake it just a little, only to go into something like a squat, arm further down, and let out the _fiercest_ battle cry she has ever experienced.

Hitoka can’t help but copy it, just as she copied Tadashi’s lucky gesture from before, and, again, she’s not the only one, not with Akiteru’s screeching turned restrained sobbing, Takinoue’s, Shimada’s and Saeko’s cries and the players on the sidelines positively _losing_ their minds along with Ukai-san, Takeda-sensei, and – _wow_ , is that really the stoic Shimizu-senpai yelling in surprise?!

But none of it matters, not in the slightest, when it begins to sink in that Kei _blocked Ushijima’s spike,_ Kei won them a point that would have otherwise led them into another few rounds of catch-up – no, Kei’s block won them this _set_. Just for a second, Hitoka allows herself to forget everything she’s learned about team work and combinations and let her chest swell with pride for Kei, the sober, impassive and cool boy who kept on repeating that _Volleyball is just a club_ and blushed when Tadashi informed her of the dinosaur figurine collection he stored in the shelves of his room. Pride for him and the loud, unabashed, primitive almost – but in the very best way, the way that made Hitoka understand why those boys lived and breathed volleyball – joy he learned to express.

Panting from the vocal exertion and adrenaline, she watches Nishinoya and Tanaka jump on Kei’s back and side, respectively, Tanaka even gracing Kei with several congratulatory gut punches. She doesn’t need to see Kei’s face to know that at this point, all traces of joy and cheer must be gone, replaced by exasperated irritation and annoyance at his teammates’ eager physical contact.

Hitoka laughs, taking in Kei rubbing the shoulder Tanaka latched on to and Tadashi speaking to Suga-san excitedly. As she strains her eyes, she can even recognize that radiant smile of Tadashi’s, the one where he beams so hard his eyes close, and her chest swells further.

When they finish talking, Tadashi rolls his neck in a fruitless attempt of getting rid of the tension – the game isn’t over yet, and the stress hasn’t gone – and when he does so, he must think of Hitoka in the stands, because he turns around some more and puts his hand up to his eyes, scanning the audience.

When their eyes meet, Tadashi jerks his head back toward the court – towards Kei – and offers her a thumbs up.

 

(When Hitoka asks him what he and Suga-san were talking about later, he tells her, "He apologized to me in case it came off as though he underestimated Tsukki and what he’s capable of."

He scratches his cheek, the pink on it spreading slowly.

"It’s kind of obvious that I always want people to think the best of Tsukki, isn’t it?"

Hitoka smiles.

"As long as you’re not the only one.")


End file.
